


breathe clean air

by scumfuck



Category: IT 2017
Genre: ?? - Freeform, AU, Angst, Eddie Kaspbrak - Freeform, Kinda, M/M, Reddie, Richie Tozier - Freeform, both are 24 years old, chaptered fic, eddie's living in nyc, reddie au, they're aged up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:17:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumfuck/pseuds/scumfuck
Summary: The old Italian man turned around to face Richie, staring at him through the glass that divided the passengers from the driver. "Who're you lookin' for? Huh?"Richie bit the inside of his cheek. This was a mistake, he should have kept his mouth shut. The man was looking expectantly at him, so he blew out a struggled breath."I'm looking for someone named Eddie."





	1. smile when you cry

**Manhattan, 1985.**

"Hey, kid! Get in!" Richie was shouted at by an angry Italian man in a cab. He'd put his hand out simply because other people on the street were doing the same thing, but had hailed a cab. 

He pulled open the door and slid onto the leather seats, lugging a giant backpack on his back. It smelled like smoke. Fuck, he hadn't had a smoke in a hot minute. He tapped his fingers against the side of his leg. 

"Where to?" 

Richie froze. He had no where to go here. When he went back to Derry after college, Mike just said New York City. What did that mean? Manhattan was huge- no, what if he was in Brooklyn? 

Richie didn't even know who he was looking for. It was a vague memory. Angry red cheeks and soft colored freckles on a smooth nose. It was clear skin and tennis shoes and boxer shorts in the summer.

"Anywhere." They said that in movies, right? 

The old man honked a horn heatedly at a bus. "That's not how it fuckin' works, pal. Either you give me a place or get out," he snarled from the front seat. Richie stared at a person on the street, putting up flyers for a band.

"Um... Take me to- I don't fucking- Fuck!" 

The man turned around to face Richie, staring at him through the glass that divided the passengers from the driver. "Who're you lookin' for? Huh?" 

Richie bit the inside of his cheek. This was a mistake, he should have kept his mouth shut. The man was looking expectantly at him, so he blew out a struggled breath.

"I'm looking for someone named Eddie," he sighed. 

"There are a million Eddie's here, bud." 

Richie put his face in his hands, his glasses pressing up close to his eyes in the process. He was frustrated. 

"I don't- I just don't know! I don't remember..." 

The driver huffed and spread his fingers over the steering wheel. Then he looked at Richie through the mirror with a sentimental face. 

"I can take you to the police? File a missing persons report, or somethin'?" he finally suggested.

Richie's head raised again, and his hand went to rub at his neck. "It's not that, it's just... I don't know. Just drop me off here, I think I'll be fine." 

The man nodded and quickly swerved to the right, sliding almost perfectly into a parallel spot. It was right in front of a bar, funnily enough. Richie stepped out. 

"How much?" He began to pull out his wallet.

"You're fine," the driver said. "It's on me." 

Richie's head shot up, his eyebrows furrowing. "Really?" 

"Yeah. Go find Eddie," he smiled and drove off, causing a fit of honks from other cars and taxis and buses on the streets. 

Richie pulled on the backpack strap and looked up at the bar. There were neon lights blinking an 'Open!' sign, and it looked too inviting to not head inside. 

Richie quit drinking after college. He decided he didn't want to end up like his mother, or resemble either of his parents, matter of fact. Lasted a good three years.

The bar was smokey and crowded. There were scantily clad women and gruff looking men. On the end of the bar, tucked away in a corner, there was an empty seat. Richie flew to it.

"Sorry," the man next to him mumbled as he climbed onto the seat. 

"That's quite alright, fellow!" Richie spoke in an obnoxious fake British accent. He hadn't done that one since college, hah! Always a good time to bust out the old voices.

The man's head shot up at Richie's voice. He stared a head and straightened his back before craning his neck to see Richie. Freckles spread over his softly shaped nose, sprinkled over blushed cheeks. His eyes were wide and reminded Richie of a doe; His expression, however, more resembling a deer caught in headlights. Then his eyebrows furrowed. 

"Do I know you?" he asked then, cocking his head to the side. His hair flopped over on his face, all chocolate brown strands. Richie thought it looked like Rob Lowe's in The Outsiders, maybe. No, maybe River Phoenix. 

Richie shrugged and smiled, his hand rubbing over his cheek- and crap, he forgot to shave. "Dunno. You, however, resemble a young Anthony Perkins, don't you! Ever got that before?" 

The man laughed a bit, and straightened the collar of his shirt. It was layered underneath a maroon sweater. Richie stared at where his neck met his collarbone for a moment, before glancing back up to the guy's eyes. "You just look familiar, is all." 

Richie brushed a curl out of his eyes. He was about to greet himself, but the bartender had swung in. Richie ordered himself a beer with little to no guilt despite his promise to himself. He turned back to the man next to him, who was staring at his glass with a small smile gracing his lips. 

"I'm Richie,"  Richie said, and the stranger snapped back to his attention. His eyes were distant but he grinned, and replied. 

"Eddie." 

And Richie could have passed out. Really, he could have, he could've fallen off that stool right that moment and knocked himself out. But the bartender slammed his drink on the wood in front of him, and made him blink and rub his eyes. His leg bounced on the stool. 

He cleared his throat. "Eddie, huh?" 

"Yeah...?" Eddie had a weird tone to his voice. His eyes were boring holes into the side of Richie's head. "Why?" 

Richie glanced at him, plastering a fake smile on his lips. "Nothing, I was actually looking for someone named Eddie," he admitted. It couldn't be him, though. It couldn't. Unless that was what fate was, and Richie just didn't want to believe it. "I mean, I grew up with one. He was one of my best friends. I think." 

Eddie was quiet, and took a sip of dark red wine the color of his sweater. He swallowed and a moment passed before he said anything. "You... Think?" 

Richie nodded. "I don't remember a thing about my childhood. That's weird, I- I remember the bad things, but not the good. I guess the memories were too good for me to remember," he laughed to himself, and took a swig of his beer. 

"That- um. That happened to me, too." Eddie ran a hand through his hair, and Richie watched his fingers comb through it.  "I actually think I had a lot of good friends in high school. I think. I dunno their names, though." 

Richie's stomach tugged at itself. His gut was screaming- " _Hey, this is who you're looking for, fatass! He's the one!_ " It seemed uncanny, though. That he would've found the right person so easily. Out of the millions of people in this city, did he really find the right one? But he wasn't sure, not fully. Eddie had a sort of connection to him, and maybe it wasn't so apparent. It was subtle, like a breeze in spring or the swipe of a kiss on the skin.

"All I know is I lost my virginity in high school. Still happy 'bout that," Richie claimed, hitting his chest with a prideful expression.

Eddie chuckled a bit. "You peaked in high school, yeah?" 

Richie felt almost attacked by the statement, but it had an undertone of understanding nature, and he decided not to take it to heart. He shrugged again, shoulders bouncing in a quick movement. "Don't remember!" 

And Eddie laughed.

"Do you um... Live here?" Eddie asked, his voice tentative. 

That was what made Richie really want to pass out. He'd completely forgotten where he was going to stay; He rushed out of Derry so fast that he was now homeless. Nice one, Rich. You really did it this time. 

"I'm actually from Maine," he replied quickly, downing the last of his drink. 

The man beside him froze. 

"Me too," he squeaked. 

There was a beat of silence, or maybe it was minutes, Richie couldn't count them. Because he froze, too, after setting his bottle down on the bar. 

When he looked at Eddie, he was staring into the distance with some emotionless look on his face- but somehow, it held every emotion possible. Richie didn't know what to say. Or do. 

"You wanna bust this place?" he asked. Eddie did nothing but nod his head slightly, and the two led their way out of the busy bar. 

When they were outside, Richie took a deep breath of air, turning his head to the sky. The clouds were clear, and there were stars scattered amongst the darkness. Eddie bent over on the pavement and hurled, one hand holding onto his torso and the other pulling back his hair. His skin was a greenish color and his ears red. Richie stepped back from the throw up, and patted his back.

When he stood back up, his eyes were watery. He didn't look at Richie, and continued to clutch at his stomach.

Richies hand was still on his back, but it'd moved to rest on his lower spine, right where it curved. "Good?" he whispered, though he had no need to. New York City was bustling even at night, and it wasn't common someone needed to speak at a whisper.

Eddie's face was still queasy, but he assured Richie anyway. Then he stepped away from the warm hand on his back. 

"Too much to drink?" Richie laughed softly to himself. Eddie shook his head. 

"I don't know." 

Richie looked out at the lights on inside buildings. He wondered if there were people in those rooms, too, and if they remembered their childhood. Probably. He was just fucked up.

Eddie's knees collapsed at that moment. Richie wanted to catch him before he hit the ground, but was too distracted to dive for him at the right time. 

And then Eddie was softly crying on the dirty pavement. Richie kneeled next to him, trying to see his face. Eddie's fingers were curled over his eyes as the tears streamed down his cheeks. 

"Shit, are you okay?" Richie went to touch his hands, but Eddie flinched. 

It was silent. And then, "Why did you wait so long?" 

Richie stared at him. 

Eddie sniffed. "I've been here for years, Richie- and- and-" he cried out, "Since I was eighteen! I've been alone since I was eighteen!" 

Richie blinked and handed Eddie an unused napkin from his jacket. Eddie took it and blew into it. 

"I was living in California," Richie excused. Eddie looked at him with bleary brown eyes. 

"Jesus," Eddie muttered. He laughed despite his tears. "That's so far away." 

Richie smiled and moved strands of hair out of Eddie's face. Eddie grabbed his wrist and clung onto it, bringing his hand to hold his cheek softly. Richie's arm almost went limp under his touch.

Eddie stared into Richie's eyes, but Richie was distant. He focused on the feeling of Eddie's face and the warmth in his stomach and neck. 

A car honked, and Eddie dropped the grip on his arm. Richie pulled back and stood up. 

Eddie made an 'ahem' noise and used the napkin to wipe at the corners of his eyes. "I, uh... I have an apartment. It's a couple blocks down, in Midtown." He wrung his hands together. They were dry and cold, and the tips of his fingers were turning a light pink from his lack of gloves. "You can stay with me."

Richie ran a hand through his curls. "Catch up?" he proposed. He reached down to pull Eddie up. He stood with a huff and stuffed the napkin in the back pocket of his corduroys. 

Eddie let the smallest of smiles appear on his chapped lips.  "Yeah, we can catch up."

 

 

 

 


	2. i smell like chanel

Richie woke up from the blinding sun shining through open curtains. And the crick in his neck.

His hand shot up to press into it, and it took a moment before he sat up fully. His back ached as well, all the way down his spine. He groaned at the tense muscles, and the pain had already festered to his forehead.

He needed an Advil.

When he pried open his eyes, he realized he wasn't in his own home. He blinked, glancing around, before he remembered- he'd went home with Eddie the previous night.

Eddie's apartment was neat and tidy, like something out of a magazine his mother used to get issued to their house when he was a child. The kind of furniture you always wanted, but never realized how uncomfortable it was.

Richie supposed he learned that the hard way, after sleeping on a goddamn leather couch that seemed to have absolutely no cushion in it whatsoever. The blanket he was given was soft, though. It had an odd Bohemian print on it.

"Good, you're up," a groggy voice called from behind him. Richie would have turned around, but really, his neck wouldn't allow him. So he stood up, stretching his arms up and cracking his jaw. He picked up his glasses from the floor and propped them on his nose. When he spun to face the open kitchen, a sleep deprived Eddie was staring at him with wide morning eyes.

Today he was wearing plaid pants and a dress shirt, without a tie, however. Richie idly wondered where it was that he worked, but decided to ask later. He walked into the kitchen and tried putting on a smile.

"Mornin'."

Eddie smiled lightly, nervously. He pushed a butter tray across the counter. "It's Friday. I haven't gone food shopping, I was going to do it after work. Uh- there's whole wheat bread in the cabinet," he offered. "If you wanted any."

Richie shrugged and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I can go food shopping, if you want," he proposed. Eddie brought his lip in between his teeth and bit on it.

"No, I'll do it. You can just- you can stay here, if you want," he said. Suddenly, he became antsy, and started to quickly move around the apartment. "Here's the phone. Don't take too long on it, I haven't paid the bill in months." He pointed to a yellow telephone hung to the wall. Then he picked up a notepad and scribbled something down on it. He ripped off the paper and held it up next to his face. "My office's number. Seriously, don't call this one unless it's an emergency. They hate me at work." He laughed a little to himself, an anxious laughter.

Richie watched him, amused, as he grabbed his coat and struggled as it hung onto the hook on the wall. He continued to talk in a strained voice.

"The bathroom's small, and there's only hot water at ungodly times of the day. So unless you want to-" He huffed as he finally ripped his coat off the wall. "-take a shower at 4am, it's gonna be cold."

"That's fine. I've bathed in worse liquids," he chuckled to himself. Eddie shot him a look as he pulled his arm through the coat.

"Use the big bottle of shampoo if you do, don't use the expensive ones," Eddie ordered, and walked over to his nightstand. His entire apartment was just one long room, his bed near the window, across from a desk and a radio. He reached for a small bottle of cologne and sprayed it on his chest and neck. Then, he turned back towards the kitchen and grabbed his wallet.

"Put pants on before you go out," he said, and looked at Richie's bare legs.

"Okay, mom," Richie retorted, smiling; And something about it seemed so childish, like he'd done that a million times before.

Eddie almost smiled. "Oh right!" He pointed to the kitchen counter. "If you get hurt, there's a first aid kit." He passed by Richie to find it, and he took a whiff of Eddie's cologne. Except it wasn't cologne.

"Is that perfume?" he asked as Eddie bent over to search the cabinet.

"No, it's a first aid kit."

Richie laughed. "No, asshole- you're wearing perfume?"

Eddie stood up and faced him. His face was quizzical. "Yeah? So what?"

Richie didn't know what to say, so he shrugged. "Nothin'." Eddie placed the kit on the tight counter space. "Smells nice," Richie mumbled.

Eddie smiled, and rubbed chapstick over his lips. "Chanel No. 5."

"Huh?"

Eddie ran a hand through his hair and popped a mint in his mouth. "Chanel. It's Chanel."

Then he opened the door of the apartment, grabbing his keys on the way out.

"Have a nice day at work, honey!" Richie called after him. Eddie flipped him off and laughed. "Your lovely housewife will be waiting here!" And then the door shut. Richie leaned his back on it, smiling to himself; he wouldn't hate to wake up to that every morning, truth be told.

* * *

 

Richie had never been so bored in his life. Well, he said that about a lot of things, but really, he was bored out of his skull.

He spent most of his time sitting on Eddie's carpet, sifting through his records and tapes. He laid them all out on the floor- David Bowie, and Tears for Fears, and even Madonna. Except after a while, he forgot what order Eddie put them in, so he put them in order from which artist he'd preferably hook up with. 

That's when he moved to the tapes. There were quite a few mixtapes in the box, which also had an unused Walkman inside. He flipped through them. Most of the names were times of the year- "Autumn Leaves," and "Summer Tunes." Some of them had other people's names on them. It made Richie frown as he looked at them. Did Eddie make these for people, but not gift them?

On the bottom of the box, there was a dusty old hand-painted mixtape. On the white strip, it had Eddie's name on it. It was written in scrawled red ink, next to a tiny heart. It looked awfully familiar to Richie. He held it in his hands and felt the weight of it, turning it around.

He thought about it. Would it be an invasion of privacy if he listened to it? No, maybe not. Maybe this was something one of Eddie's girlfriends gave him in high school. If Eddie had girlfriends then. Richie couldn't remember.

He decided to listen to it. Fuck it. It probably had basic songs on it anyway.

He pulled the headphones and Walkman out of the box and slipped in the tape. When he pressed play, there was white noise- as if someone was recording their own voice. Whoever it was spoke, through a muffled laughter. "I love you, Eds! These are for you, baby!"

Richie's breath hitched. That was his voice- it had to be. Unless it wasn't. But it had to be.

The first song that played was 'I Was Made For Lovin' You,' by KISS. And Richie laughed, because he remembered the first time he listened to that song. It was in summer, and he went to the record store and got it- no. No way. 

The next song was 'Landslide,' and then 'Sound and Vision,' and then 'Is This Love.' Richie smiled; These were the songs his mother used to play with him as a teenager. The last one on the tape was 'The Word', by the Beatles. It was crackly and skipped, and the original record was probably scratched. Richie didn't mind. 

He stared at the ceiling while he laid on the carpet, presuming the tape was over. 

But it kept going. The same voice from before spoke again. 

" _I know you're going to New York City soon- so this is just a going away present from me! Write to me, please? I'll be in San Francisco- Bill told me they have protests there all the time! I really think I'll like it there, Eddie. I'll really miss you, though._ " 

There was a long pause. Richie sat up and his eyes focused on the Walkman with an intense stare. 

" _I really like you, Eddie. I think I- this is stupid, really_ ," the voice laughed. It cracked in his ears. " _I think I love y_ -" 

The sound was cut off, leaving Richie stunned. His breathing was heavy and it was the only thing he could hear, besides his heartbeat, which pounded in his ears like an alarm. 

His fingertips curled into the carpet, nails digging into it. After gaining his composure, he removed the headphones and put the Walkman back in its box. He didn't bother organizing the tapes. 

He rubbed at his nose roughly. 

"Fuck," he mumbled. When his hand came back, there was a trail of blood on it. He pinched at his nose and ran to the bathroom. 

He shoved two tissues up each nostril. When he glanced in the mirror, his hair was wild and knotted, frizzy in the back and messy. His eyes were tired and dark, surrounded by a purple ring of sleepiness. He looked like he just got jumped by a fucking gang, for Christ's sake. 

He exited the bathroom and stared at the telephone on the wall. That's when he remembered Mike. Shit, he was supposed to call him. He went through his backpack and pulled out a piece of ripped computer paper. He punched the number written on it into the phone. It rung three times before Mike picked it up. 

"Hello?"

"Mike! It's Richie," he wrapped the cord of the phone around a long finger, thinking of what he was going to say next, "I uh, found Eddie! Last night, actually. I'm at his place now." 

Mike cleared his throat on the other line. "That was really fast, huh?" 

"Yeah."

"Is he with you?"

Richie shook his head, even though Mike couldn't see him. "Nah. He went to work. We're having dinner tonight, I think. To catch up."

"That's great, Richie," Mike said, and he meant it. 

There was an awkward silence where all Richie could hear was that noise the phone makes when no one's talking. Richie thought about telling Mike about the tape, but decided against it.

"Hey, listen, Rich," Mike said. And Richie listened. "You'll be fine. Get out there, okay? Explore the city, live." 

Richie smiled and leaned his head on the wall. "Thanks, Mikey."

"Stay safe." 

"I will. Bye, Mike," Richie said. 

"See ya, Rich." 

Richie pressed the phone to its base and tapped his foot against the carpet. He looked around the kitchen, eager for something to do, and decided to cook dinner. 

Eddie would appreciate it, right? 

 

 


	3. we once had things in common; now the only thing we share is the refrigerator

Eddie's small fridge under the counter was practically empty. There was around two cups of milk left in the half gallon, three whole eggs, and a small piece of a Hershey bar that had been broken off into small chunks of chocolate. There was also leftover pizza in the very back shelf.

Richie was probably halfway through making half assed scrambled eggs when he heard the jiggle of keys in the lock. The door opened and an exhausted, dead-looking Eddie stepped in. The tight kitchen was against only one wall, making when Eddie walked in, face Richie. 

"Oh!" Eddie exclaimed in a small, surprised voice. 

Richie glanced up and smiled with bare teeth, his tooth gap probably stuck out in an obvious manner to Eddie. But when he faced the tired boy, Eddie's expression turned to a frightened. 

"Why's that shit in your nose?" he asked, quickly dropping his carrier by the door and inspecting Richie's face. The tissues were still stuck in his nose, bloodied up and wadded into his nostrils. Eddie's fingers touched the tip of his nose, prodding it gently. "Did you actually manage to break your nose?" 

Richie's hands shot up to pull out the tissues. "No! I got a bloody nose out of no where."  He threw them in the trash before rubbing at his nose again. Eddie's fingers were still there, and his eyes were worried. 

"I left the first aid kit for a reason- That's why I left it, man! I mean, you could've used it!" Richie simply laughed and continued to scramble the eggs in the frying pan. Eddie sighed. 

"Thank you for making dinner," he mumbled. 

Richie nodded in response. For a while, the only thing heard was the sizzling of the pan and Richie humming along to a song stuck in his head. Eddie entered the apartment fully, undressing from his work clothes and into sweatpants and an old t-shirt. 

"Hey- Um, Richie?" 

"Yeah?" Richie called from the counter. 

He slid the eggs off of the pan and onto two separate plates.

"Were you looking through my music?"  Richie heard the soft pad of Eddie's feet against his carpet as he trotted towards the open box of tapes and records. 

Richie handed Eddie his plate and a slice of toast (unfortunately on whole wheat bread) and stared at Eddie's expression. 

"I was curious." Richie remembered the mixtape. Eddie gave him a blank stare as he picked up the Walkman from the floor. He placed the headphones over his ears and rewinded the tape back. He laughed a little, and then looked almost angry. 

"Did you tape over another mix in here?" he asked from the floor, staring up at Richie. He shook his head. 

"No." 

Eddie scoffed and shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth. "Yes you did. Why's your voice on this tape?" 

"Eddie. I didn't do it," Richie said, a serious tone in his voice. 

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed. "What?" He listened to the rest of the tape, his mouth slightly agape. Then he dropped his fork. It clattered on the plate and fell onto the carpet. 

Richie watched him. Eddie glanced at him, his chin trembling and his eyes wide.

"What the fuck," he whispered, staring at the Walkman. 

"I don't know." Richie laughed a little.

"Why are you fucking laughing?" Eddie asked, raising his voice. Richie stopped, and ate another bite of the eggs. They were cold. 

"This is insane," Eddie muttered as he ripped off his headphones, stepping over Richie's long legs to put his finished plate with the rest of his dishes. 

"I just want to know why we forgot anything," Richie voiced. "I mean- if it's true- if you were my first l-lov-" 

"All of this is fucking insane!" Eddie practically shrieked. Richie turned to face him. His fingers were curled in his hair, pulling at it like a crazy person. "I don't even know you! I mean- I don't know how you found me, or who told you my name! I don't need this right now." He shut his eyes and sat on the couch. 

"I'm sorry," Richie said, climbing up next to him. 

Eddie rubbed at his tired eyes. "This is just so fucking weird." 

"I don't know any more than you do," Richie replied. "I think it has something to do with... Fate, or something." 

"You really think?" Eddie asked, lifting his head up to look at Richie. His voice was clear and without a tone of sarcasm.

Richie nodded. Eddie brought his legs to curl up next to him on the couch, wrapping his bare arms around them. He looked so small then, to Richie, like a child. 

"Does this mean I'm the one you lost your virginity to?" Eddie asked. Richie burst into laughter- a forbidden kind of laughter, all carbonated and bubbling over the edge of a cup, threatening to spill. Eddie smiled.

"Guess so."  Eddie shuddered, and muttered something towards God.

And then they were staring at each other. Richie, with his head in his hand, leaning on the back of the couch, and Eddie, with his head cocked to the side and a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. 

"You really think we dated in high school, then?" Eddie narrowed his eyes a bit, leaning in. 

Richie swallowed, nodding heavily. 

He couldn't really explain how it happened, but in seconds, Eddie was flush against him, his lips pressing up on his in a glorious kiss- one he's never felt before. It was everything a kiss should be, and then some. It was soft and smooth and perfect. Eddie's hand curled around Richie's jaw, and his tongue swiped over his bottom lip tentatively. 

Richie gasped when Eddie moved to sit on his lap, his other hand wrapping around Richie's curls. His tongue was almost expertise- which was a gross word for Richie to describe it with. It reminded him of math class. But it was true, really; His tongue moved with Richie's at an agonizing pace, but it was gentle and moved swiftly with his.

Richie didn't even realize his hands were situated on Eddie's hips until he squeezed them, and Eddie squeaked into his mouth. He grinded down onto Richie and pulled back from his mouth. 

"Fuck," Richie cursed, staring up at Eddie's pink face. His lips were red and swollen, as if he'd sucked on a cherry lollipop for too long. His eyes were hooded and the lashes were bent upwards. Richie tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, leaning up to kiss gently at Eddie's neck. 

He heard an audible gulp of air from Eddie and pulled back. When he did, however, he saw a tear stream down Eddie's cheek. 

"Holy shit, what's wrong?" Richie asked. Eddie opened his eyes and cried out a little, another tear streaming from his tear ducts. 

"I can't," he breathed out. 

Richie cocked his head, his hand trailing up to Eddie's and pushing back his hair from his forehead. Eddie pressed into the hand when it came back down to his cheek. "Can't what?" 

"Do this." 

Richie nodded. "I get it. It was really fast, I'm sorry." Eddie shook his head then.

"I can't hook up with you," he mumbled through puffy lips. 

Richie stared at his red cheeks and brushed his thumb over a freckle. "We don't need to." 

Eddie took a shaky breath before answering. "I don't know if you're... God, I don't want AIDs, Richie. I'm fucking terrified," he cried softly and leaned his head on Richie's shoulder. Richie held onto him, rocking him lightly.

"It's okay," Richie murmured into the side of his head, before nuzzling his face into his hair. "You're fine." 

Eddie sobbed for a while, mumbling about past boyfriends as Richie patted his back gently. After a while, he went completely silent, with Richie's hand smoothing over his back warmly.

Richie stood, one arm curling under Eddie's bottom and carried him over to his bed. Eddie fell onto it softly, immediately curling into a pillow as Richie pulled the covers over his trembling body. 

Then it was still. Nothing in the room besides Eddie's soft breathing into his pillow. Richie stared at the window, lined with a row of half-neglected plants. Across the street, in the opposite building, a couple was fighting in front of the window. A man and a woman, yelling angrily. The man had pushed her up to the window, roughly kissing her as she sat on the edge of the sill. When Richie blinked, they were gone. 

 


	4. honey and chocolate

Richie couldn't sleep. He stayed up late into the night, bouncing his leg and rubbing his face and he couldn't stop thinking. He was awake until the sun started to shine in through the half drawn curtains.

  
When his eyes flicked to Eddie, who was fast asleep on his bed, his heart swelled. Eddie's mouth was open and he was snoring softly. The morning light shone over his soft features, all dark lashes and freckles. He twitched a little in his sleep, his bottom lip trembling, before he flipped over in the covers. He faced the window, where the sun must've woken him. He sat up in the bed. 

Richie thought Eddie couldn't see him, until he spoke. 

"I had a dream about you."

Richie's eyebrows raised, and he sat up a little straighter. "Ah, was it a special dream? Some might call it a wet one, you know."

Eddie gave him a ruthless glare from the bed. "You still tell the same jokes from when you were twelve," he muttered, his voice lower from sleep. It was unusual to hear.

"That I do." Richie tried on a smile. "What happened in it?" 

Eddie climbed out of the bed and slipped on a college sweatshirt. "We were young. Like, teenagers. And we went to the movies and saw Alien for the first time." 

Richie chuckled. "I was terrified of that movie." 

Eddie nodded, and grabbed a browning banana from the counter. He turned to Richie as he started to eat it. "You look like shit, by the way," he gestured to Richie's facial hair and eye bags, "I got razor burn after you kissed me last night." He ran his hand over his own jaw, seemingly still on the cusp of manhood. 

Richie rubbed at his face for what had to be the hundredth time in the past hour, and ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. He looked up at Eddie hopefully, and Eddie rolled his eyes. 

"I'll let you use my razor once, but you've gotta promise to not get any nasty hair in it." 

Richie smiled and followed him into the bathroom. He was tempted to kiss Eddie again, like he had the night before. But Eddie had simply given him the razor and a mocking smile before leaving Richie alone in the bathroom. 

When Richie finished brushing his teeth, Eddie was in the kitchen, trying desperately to reach a box of Lucky Charms on a high cabinet. The sweatshirt rode up his stomach a bit, revealing pale skin that Richie ached to touch. He blinked at the whole sight before stepping up close behind the shorter one. He grabbed the box with ease and Eddie froze, shivering, as if he was given the chills from something so simple. Richie chuckled and let his breath ghost over the back of Eddie's neck before walking to his backpack to change. 

It took a while before he heard the sound of the cereal being poured. 

"Did you- did you stay up last night?" Eddie's tentative voice asked. 

Richie nodded. "I kept thinking." 

There was another pause, then a hesitant breath. "About me?" 

Richie slipped on a clean shirt and turned back to the boy, who was standing at the threshold with a cereal bowl in his quivering hands. "Yeah." Richie walked over to him, and Eddie had to stare up with wide eyes. Richie was afraid he would drop the bowl on both of their feet. 

Eddie blinked before his eyes screwed close. His mouth opened, and he breathed in shakily. "We never talked. We were supposed to talk. Catch up."

Richie's eyebrows furrowed, before he nodded. "Right." He sat on the couch. 

"Um. You go first. Like, how you got here. And found me." Richie smoothed his hands on his jeans before nodding. 

"I went to college in San Francisco," he started. "I dropped out 'cause I couldn't afford the last year. So I started working with what I had. I was at a record store for a while, and then I became a deejay." 

Eddie was staring intently at him, spooning cereal into his mouth. He looked like a child waiting for the next episode of Looney Toons to come on. 

"I had a girlfriend for a while, and I stayed at her apartment. And then her mom came over when I was smoking so she kicked me out." Richie laughed at that. "And then I moved into another guy's apartment- His name was Anthony. He was a jerk but he paid three fourths of the rent so I tried not to care." Richie played with his fingers, anxious to continue. "He hit his girl a lot. The first time I heard it, I didn't do anything." 

Eddie gasped a little. 

"The second time, I said something. And he and I started to go at each other. He broke my nose, actually. Then he kicked me out." 

"Oh, Richie..." Eddie reached over to hold his hand. Both were shaking.

"It's fine," Richie said. "I called 911 on him, anyway. He's in it with the San Francisco police now." Richie cleared his throat. "Um, then I moved to Derry. Stayed in my dad's house. My mom finally moved out, though. I met Mike at a bar." 

Eddie's hand curled around his. "Who's that?" His eyes were curious. 

"He grew up with us. He told me you were here." 

One of Eddie's hands was gripping his bowl tightly, and he scooted closer to Richie. "How?" 

Richie shrugged. "He wrote down stuff when he was eighteen, I guess. When he found me, he was totally into finding you." He smiled. 

"Right..." 

Richie intertwined their fingers. "You?" 

Eddie nodded. "Went to NYU," he pointed at his sweatshirt, "Came out with a business degree. I have no clue why, I'm never gonna fucking use it. I work as, uh, as a secretary at a boring office in the east side. I fucking hate it." 

Richie smiled and reached out to play with a strand of hair that fell over Eddie's forehead. "You should quit. Do something you love." 

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly. "I'd be broke. I still haven't paid the phone bill, man. They're probably going to shut off my water any minute." Eddie laughed bubbly.

Richie shrugged and stared at a patch of freckles on Eddie's cheek. "We're still young." 

Eddie gave him an odd look, as if he was trying to read him. He said nothing in response. 

"I've always wanted to work at the LGBT center," he confided after a moment. "I remember when they first started- I was fresh out of college, and I passed by it and I just wanted to work there. Start protests and shit." 

Richie ran his fingers over Eddie's knuckles and smiled. "That would be so rad." 

"I know," Eddie gushed. 

Richie glanced up at Eddie, whose eyes were wide and inviting, and leaned in. He didn't kiss him first, however. He rested his forehead against Eddie's and closed his eyes, smiling and breathing and just _feeling_. 

"I really wanna kiss you. Is that okay?" Richie asked, without opening his eyes. Eddie's breath hitched.

"Yeah." 

Richie took his time and pressed their lips together for the second time. He felt as if he was a teenager again. Like wisps of memories faded in and out of going to movies and jumping in lakes and kissing in the back seats of cars. He felt at home. 

The kiss was slow, and it lasted seconds before Eddie pulled back. He gasped a little when Richie's hand on the back of his neck held the two close. Their noses touched and Eddie sunk into him, his breath surfacing hotly over Richie's lips in a sigh. 

"I'm sorry that I ever left you," Richie whispered. 

Eddie's trembling hand left his and instead came at Richie's shaven jaw line. His fingers laid over it gently. "It's okay," he said back, his voice cracking slightly. "You're here now." 

Richie blinked his eyes open and Eddie had a gaze in his eyes that could only be described as loving. Caring. And less in the way that a mother loves and cares for her child, or a friend loves and cares for his friend, but more intimate. As if Eddie knew everything the two had been through together. As if it was never forgotten. 

As if it was never forgotten.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry that this probably wasn't the ending you were thinking of. i ran into an art block yesterday when thinking of how to continue- i thought this was fine. i would have liked to continue longer but i'm a horrible person and got a little bored. (sorry) thank you for reading anyway! you're all so sweet and amazing and i appreciate your comments and love <3

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not good at keeping up chaptered fics but hopefully this one won't turn to shit!


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